xx-XBREAKING OUTX-xx

Glasses tinkled as a family of three sat at the long, dark cherry wood table, utensils clacking softly against imported china. The chandelier above their heads illuminated the room, highlighting the warm tones. The rich reds and chocolaty browns made the space much more alive and welcoming, contradicting the atmosphere of the room.

A boy of twelve sat between each of his parents, dark red-head turned down at his plate. He was chewing at his meal mechanically, not really tasting the dinner that the cook had prepared that night. Silence continued for a while, until they were about ready to have desert, when the boy's mother -sitting far down on his right side- spoke up.

"Your father and I have received a copy of your report card. We are not very pleased with your marks this term," the woman said, dabbing softly at the side of her mouth.

The red-haired child only glanced up from his meal, his face set into an emotionless mask that mirrored his parents'.

"You are to correct your folly. No son of ours shall have a 95 average. Understand?," came the cold question.

The pre-teen straightened up in his chair, turning his head completely in his mother's direction, dark eyes gleaming. "Understood," he answered, still gazing at her. He kept his voice even, not giving any hint that he was annoyed with her and her condescending attitude toward him. The woman may have been his mother but she certainly didn't act like one.

"I'm glad to hear. And Madara(1)..." The red-headed child, now identified as Madara, clenched his jaw tightly in irritation. How he hated that name that his parents had given him. The name of his great ancestor, who was known throughout every history book. As if anyone cared about some dead man. He sure didn't. Still he focused on his mother, changing his facial expression just slightly so that the green-eyed female would know that he was paying attention.

"... No riding tonight. You will go up to your room and study," The woman said, placing her utensils down so one of the maids could collect her plate. "And there will be no riding until you've brought your grades up." Her tone was final.

Madara nodded his head, casting a small glance at his father as a maid gathered his dinner dishes, biting the inside of his cheek in outrage. He knew that the man would say nothing at all to his wife's punishment, and would agree that his son probably didn't need to partake in frivolous night-time activities. Knowing all this, only made the boy more angry, and he clenched his fists under the table so as to gain some control over his emotions. The red-head would have loved nothing more than to scream at the pompous assholes who'd given him life but he knew that the action would get him nowhere.

His father was always calm and collected, and unbelievably cruel under his 'devil-may-care' visage. It took an awful lot to anger the man, but that just made the impact of his outrage more deadly. He knew that any move hinting at a revolt of authority on his part could trigger the male's unfathomable rage, and he feared getting caught in his father's hate. His mother, though patient and very collected herself, did not hide her emotions like her husband. No, she preferred to show exactly what she was feeling, and would tell you about it too with her sharp tongue. She was always quick to anger whenever someone tried to denounce her and her authority, and the way she expressed her outrage was just as violent as his father's.

No, screaming or cursing them out wouldn't be beneficial to his cause. Madara would have to think of another way to get his point across to his parents, to punish them for their cruel injustice over his life. Picking delicately at his creme brule, the boy got to thinking. He would need a drastic but guaranteed-to-succeed plan. Something they'd never think of him doing, something unpredictable to show that they didn't really have as much control over his life as they thought they did.

It was a week before he came up with the perfect plan. It was right after his flute lessons, when he was returning to his room for the night, that he stopped at the large bay window of the second floor landing. Outside, the moon was beginning to peak behind the towering forest that circled his parents' estate, covering the world in a wash of silver light. He gazed at the view longingly, ignoring the long winding drive-way and well-manicured front lawns, just wishing he could be out there at that very moment. There was nothing he found better than riding through the dark of night, going fast on a large black steed that he'd named Sharigan, just him and the big beast in the sleeping world.

But he was still unable to ride, and he couldn't possibly sneak down to the stables to sneak the horse out for abit. He really couldn't since the stables were located another mile or so over, and he usually took the limousine down to it because it was far. 'This is stupid,' he thought, turning away from the window.

And as we was about to take the first step back to his room, he was suddenly hit with the idea. He smirked at his genius and hurried to his chambers, shutting the door tightly behind him and locking it. Why just think of running down to the stables, when he could actually run-away!?

Madara felt his initial excitement fade away as he reflected on his epiphany. Running away would be the perfect shocker to his parents, but where would he go? 'Well, it doesn't matter. I just need to find some oblivious sucker to take me in for as long as necessary.' Again, the smirk was back on the boy's lips and he dashed about his room, grabbing his school bag.

He would need clothes, one or two sets were fine (maybe three), and some cash. Cash was easy to get, he had plenty in his school outfit's pocket and in dire situations he had his credit card. Not that he would really want to use it, because it would only make him traceable if he were to make a transaction. So, he already had the two essential things one needed, but what else should he bring? Dare he take anything more with him?

The red-head sat on his bed, frowning thoughtfully as he gazed about his room. There was nothing in it that he really wanted or cared for, and wouldn't bother him one bit if he left it behind. "This can't possibly be all I'm taking. I need to have something more!," he whispered harshly to himself. Most runaways always took at least one or two items of sentimental value, something that meant the world to them. If he was going to make it appear that he had run away, he'd need something he could pass of as being special to him for the poor idiot he was going to convince on housing him.

Black eyes fell to the small case of his flute, and Madara grinned triumphantly. The flute was an annoying instrument, but of all his items it was the most preferred. It would be simple to act as if the steel tube was his most sentimental possession. Getting to his feet, the pre-teen quickly stripped off his clothes and threw some more casual ones on. He had to appear that he came from a middle-class family lest someone try to kidnap him for ransom because he was wearing fine clothing. Not that anybody would be able to do that. Madara had been put through many self-defense and martial arts classes, especially Judo classes, when he was a child. Being the son of a National icon and millionaire meant there were a lot of people out to snatch him from his crib.

He could say that he was proud of his combat skills, and it was the only thing that the boy was grateful to have come out of his privileged lifestyle. Moving to his desk, the red-head wrote a quick note, ripping the paper out of his notebook. Madara put the note right on the center of his desk, placed so someone could find it easily, obsidian orbs taking in the entire expanse of his desk.

The boy's gaze locked on a single framed picture, pale fingers reaching up and pulling the image toward him. It was a picture of his uncle, the man positioned unsmiling at the camera but there was a small twinkle of amusement in his eyes. For some reason he still couldn't quite understand, his father hated his uncle, and was quite adamant about not ever seeing the man. Which would explain why the pre-teen's uncle hadn't even stepped foot in their house. Madara cradled the portrait, returning back to his bed. Okay, so maybe he had found a couple more items to bring along (including the notebook and pen) but that was alright.

Slinging his bag over his shoulders, he found it to be still light enough for him to carry for a long distance. That was good. Smirking, the child left his room, and snuck downstairs. People were already asleep or going to sleep by now, so there was noone to get in his way. Hurrying, he made his way to the kitchen's side door, the same one used by the kitchen staff for whenever they came and went. The boy left the house without a glitch, and dashed into the property's forests. If he walked all night at a quick but steady pace, he'd reached the city by dawn.

Lips fixed in a determined smirk, Madara started into a fast walk, weaving through the dark forest with animalistic ease; heading toward the city.

Uzumaki Naruto was outside, at two o'clock in the afternoon, getting some groceries for home shortly after getting off his shift at work. The sun was out, the sky was blue and the twenty-five year old man couldn't be happier. Today was a good day, and nothing could ruin it for him. Apparently the blonde was being just a little optimistic, because as soon as the kid ran into him, his day was ruined.

"Woah!," Naruto cried, as a small weight shot out of the alley he was passing, bulldozing right into his side. The blue-eyed male grabbed the brick wall to regain his balance before he fell over, watching as a blood-red headful of slightly long, spiky hair pulled away from his side and took off down the street.

The blonde's initial response was to stare at the kid, before his hand removed itself from the wall and made its way to the pocket of his orange sweater. Tan fingers wormed through the pocket, closing around nothing. "Shit!," Naruto cursed, as his mind suddenly made the final connections. Holding the bag of groceries securely in his left arm, the blonde tore after the kid, dodging past people and apologizing as he went.

"Umph! O-oh, sorry! Hey! Y-yo!! Give back my wallet, thief!" The pre-teen hesitated for a moment on the street corner, before turning around the corner. The Uzumaki growled frustratingly at the back of his throat, pushing his legs to move faster, nearly skidding into traffic as he dashed around the corner. 'Come on, come on... dammit!!'

The kid was gone, nowhere to be found on the street. Naruto paused on the sidewalk, slightly hunched over as he worked to catch his breath and stop the thumping in his ears so he could properly think. The kid couldn't have gotten too far, so he still had to be around here. The blonde straightened up and slowly walked down the street. He paused at the entrance of another alley, cerulean orbs glancing down into the dirty back street.

The golden-haired male grinned broadly before stepping into the alley. There was a large stack of crates on one side of the alley, a large rust covered green dumpster, and a couple of black garbage bags piled on the opposite wall. Naruto had to hold back the bitter laugh that threatened to spill from his lips. His childhood experience easily told him that the kid was here. Whistling a happy-go-lucky tune, the blonde calmly strode to the dumpster, lifting the lid up and peering inside.

"Hey, you going to come out now? I promise not to do anything, I just want my wallet back, please."

A torn bag of molding lettuce shifted, and the red-headed kid came up out of the filth. "And what if I don't believe you?," the boy questioned, black eyes glaring coldly up at the blonde.

Naruto shrugged. "I guess we've got a problem then," he replied.

Madara had it lucky. He'd managed to survive a week on the city streets, and had yet to be spotted by anyone that could leak information back to his parents about his whereabouts. He'd managed to earn his place, and showed some of the older teens that he wasn't to be confronted. And though it was a not really part of the plan... he was having fun being a street kid. There was a sort of adrenaline rush that came from being on your own, always having your neck held out in danger's way. Absolutely perfect.

But then he had to run out of money, and he had thought about stealing some food but the risk was too great. He wasn't ready to go back to his parents, and even he knew he couldn't fight off a dozen or so trained officers. After thinking about it for a bit, he figured that stealing a person's wallet would be much more efficient and was likely to let him get away. Just as he was contemplating who should be his first victim, his dark eyes spotted the blonde man walking down the street, and instantly knew that he was the one.

What he didn't account for was the guy actually finding him. Just how could the man know exactly where he was? It was unbelievable. Frowning, Madara sat up in the garbage, glaring up at the man. "And what if I don't believe you?," he'd asked. He would of thought the blonde was going to freak out, or at least would have made some connection to his appearance, but no such reaction came from the older male.

Instead the man just shrugged, looking honestly puzzled. "I guess we've got a problem then." The red-head blinked uncertainly at the blonde, before his mind went into over-drive. If this man really didn't know who he was, and wasn't going to take any aggressive action against him, then maybe... Maybe he'd be the perfect person to steal some shelter from.

The blood-haired child weighed his options wisely, thinking in every possible outcome and realized that he really didn't have much choice. He needed to get food, and now that his image was on broadcasts everywhere, he wouldn't be able to get any without someone recognizing his face. 'Time to play the card.'

Madara turned off his glare, and shyly cast his eyes to the floor. "P-please... don't turn me in. I-i... I don't wa-want to go back there...," the boy let his sentence trail off, grinning wickedly on the inside as he watched the blonde perk at his words. 'This is too easy...'

"Hey...hey, I won't turn you in. I swear it." Naruto bent down a little, looking the kid straight in the eyes. The black eyes were shining with fresh tears. "C-come on, I promise I won't go to the cops. No crying, alright?"

The blonde noted that the child's eyes, though black, had a red sheen to them. They looked like pools of black blood. Madara wiped shakingly at his eyes, acting as if he was close to sobs. "A-alright...," he whispered back.

The Uzumaki nodded his head, smiling sadly at the boy. The child was filthy, covered head to toe in grime. There were a couple bruises here and there, and there was a look of fear now placed on the kid's features. Naruto nibbled at his bottom lip, trying to make a decision. He didn't want to leave the kid out here alone, he knew just what the streets were like. But he couldn't take the kid home... could he?

A little voice inside his head argued their point, and the blonde's resolve crumbled. "Um... h-how 'bout if you stay with me...instead? The streets are no place for a kid."

The red-head looked up, surprise written across the dirt-streaked face. "Y-you want me to c-come to your house...?," he stuttered. The shock was replaced with terror. "Wh-why?!"

Naruto paled and tried to calm the child down before he got hysterical. "I-i won't do anything I swear! I-if it makes you feel better, you can stay here. But I promise not to turn you in."

Madara concentrated on making his facial features appear relaxed but kept in a look of wary thoughtfulness. Inside though, he was smirking in triumph. Getting a shelter supplied by an idiot appeared easier than he had first thought. Now for the final touches... The red-head slowly nodded his head, keeping a remnant of fear still in his obsidian eyes. "O-ok," he replied.

The Uzumaki brightened immediately, a smile spreading across his face. "I'll do my best!," he chirped cheerily. The pre-teen stared strangely at the grinning man, before a blush made its way across his pale cheeks. Madara found his heart beating crazily and cursed himself for his rampant organ. Still the boy couldn't help but think that the pink dusting across cheeks adorned with three thin scars each (so strange, they looked like whiskers) and the blue eyes that twinkled merrily were really pretty. Really, really pretty.

Letting himself be helped out of the dumpster after fishing his bag out of the rubbish, and agreeing to wear the man's orange sweater, the red-head trailed after the blonde male. The sweater's hoodie was pulled over his forehead, covering his hair, black eyes still focused on the man he'd agreed to go with. 'Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all...'

"Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you my name," the golden-haired man said, as they crossed the street. Madara's head snapped up at that, an eyebrow cocked at the older male in question. The blonde grinned as he looked down at the pre-teen. "I'm Uzumaki Naruto."

The red-head blinked, letting a small smirk cross his lips before erasing it. "Kyuubi(2)," he replied. He was rewarded with another smile.

C.M.D: Yes, I have yet again written another fanfic without first finishing the other ones. I can't help it, i'm naturally creative and I hate losing ideas because I don't write them down. So... another story is created!
(1)Madara... I used this because I couldn't think of a good name, and I know most prestigous families name their kids after their ancestors. Saying that... I wonder if you can figure out who the boy's parents are.
(2)Kyuubi... there is another reason for that name as well. No the kid didn't make it up, it's actually his middle name. Many people don't know his middle name, so he figured it was safe to use it. Now all you need is the last name, and you have the kid's entire identity.
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